Leila's choice

The footsteps behind her were slow. Purposeful.

Leila didn't move, but she felt it—his presence. A shift in the air, thick with tension. The tiny hairs on the back of her neck stood up, her pulse beating like a warning drum.

Jaxon hadn't noticed yet. He was still leaning back in his seat, watching her like she was a puzzle he was close to solving.

But she already knew who stood behind her.

Cassius.

The café, which had felt like a momentary escape, now felt like a cage.

She inhaled slowly, steadying herself. He wasn't the kind of man who made a scene. He didn't need to. Cassius Beaumont could command a room with a glance, and right now, all that power was focused on her.

Jaxon finally picked up on the shift. His smirk faltered, just slightly, before morphing into something else—curiosity.

"Well, well," he murmured, drumming his fingers against his coffee cup. "Didn't realize we were expecting company."

Leila exhaled, forcing her shoulders to relax before she turned.

Cassius stood just inside the doorway, his expression unreadable, but his eyes—God, those eyes—pinned her in place. He looked as put-together as always, dark coat unbuttoned, tailored to perfection. But beneath the polished surface, there was something simmering. Something dangerous.

A slow, measured blink.

"Leila."

He said her name like it belonged to him. Like she did.

Jaxon chuckled under his breath, breaking the silence. "Damn. So this is how it is?" He shook his head, looking between them. "You really do have a type, huh?"

Leila clenched her jaw, ignoring the comment.

Cassius moved then, closing the distance between them in slow, deliberate steps.

One step.

Then another.

Until he was standing right beside her, his scent—dark spice and something impossibly clean—wrapping around her like an unspoken warning.

The tension stretched, electric, pulling tighter with every second of silence.

Then—

"Get up," Cassius said. Quiet. Controlled.

Leila's fingers curled into fists beneath the table.

Jaxon let out a low whistle. "Wow. No 'please'? No negotiation? Just straight-up orders? That's bold, even for you, Beaumont."

Cassius didn't look at him. His attention never left Leila.

"I won't repeat myself."

There was no anger in his voice, no outright threat. Just certainty. Like he already knew what choice she'd make.

And that infuriated her.

She could feel Jaxon watching, waiting to see if she'd defy Cassius just for the sake of it.

A younger version of herself would have. Would've stayed seated just to prove she could.

But Leila wasn't that girl anymore.

She knew what power looked like. And right now, Cassius held it in the palm of his hand.

Slowly, she slid out of the booth.

Jaxon sighed, shaking his head. "Careful, Leila. You keep letting him win, and soon, you won't know where the game ends."

Cassius finally looked at him then. A slow, calculating glance.

"You're still talking."

Jaxon just grinned, but there was something sharper behind it. "And you're still pretending you're not obsessed with her."

Something flickered in Cassius's eyes. Not irritation. Not anger.

Something colder.

Without another word, he turned, placing a hand at the small of Leila's back. His touch was light. Almost casual. But she felt the weight of it. The silent message.

You're mine.

She let him guide her toward the door, her steps careful, measured. But just before stepping into the cold night air, she glanced back at Jaxon.

His gaze met hers. Steady. Knowing.

She had gotten what she needed.

But somehow, she knew—

She'd just lost something too.

The moment they stepped outside, the cold night air bit at Leila's skin, sharp against the heat still buzzing in her veins. But Cassius didn't stop. His grip on her lower back stayed firm, guiding her toward the sleek black car parked by the curb.

She should have pulled away. Should have said something.

But for some reason, she let him lead her.

Dante was already waiting by the passenger door, his sharp gaze flicking between them.

"Problem?" he asked, voice low.

Cassius didn't answer.

Instead, he opened the back door himself, a silent command.

Leila hesitated.

This was a test. She could feel it.

A challenge, unspoken.

If she got into that car, she was making a choice. A dangerous one.

Her pulse pounded as she glanced back at the café. Jaxon was still inside, watching them through the glass, unreadable.

Cassius stepped closer, voice smooth as silk.

"Inside. Now."

Leila exhaled slowly. Then, without a word, she slid into the car.

Cassius followed, shutting the door behind him.

As soon as they were enclosed in the dim interior, the silence wrapped around them, thick and charged. The city lights blurred past the tinted windows, but all she could focus on was him.

Cassius sat beside her, legs spread, one arm resting lazily against the seat, the other adjusting his cufflinks with slow precision.

Controlled. Always controlled.

But beneath it, she could feel the storm brewing.

"Who was he?" His voice was quiet. Deceptively calm.

Leila swallowed, keeping her gaze forward. "An old friend."

Cassius let out a slow, humorless chuckle. "Try again."

She clenched her fists. "You don't own me, Cassius."

That did it.

He turned to her, the air between them tightening like a noose.

"No," he murmured, tilting his head slightly. "But I do own this deal. And if you're out meeting people in the middle of the night, I have a right to know why."

Leila turned then, meeting his gaze head-on. "Are you asking because you care about the deal? Or because you hate the idea of me slipping out of your control?"

A flicker of something crossed his face.

Annoyance? Amusement?

Something else?

He didn't answer right away. Instead, he reached out, his fingers ghosting along her jaw before tilting her chin up—just enough to make her focus on him.

Leila's breath hitched.

Cassius's touch was light. Barely there. But it set her nerves on fire.

"You're playing a dangerous game, Leila," he murmured, his voice lower now.

She swallowed, pulse skittering. "So are you."

Cassius's gaze darkened.

And then, just as quickly, he pulled back, settling into his seat like nothing had happened.

"Dante will dig into your friend," he said smoothly. "If he's a threat, I'll handle it."

Leila's stomach twisted. "He's not a threat."

Cassius smirked. "We'll see."

The car slowed, pulling up to the towering glass building that housed his penthouse.

Leila's pulse kicked up again.

This wasn't over. Not even close.

As the door opened and she stepped out into the cold, she knew one thing for certain.

She was already in too deep.

And Cassius Beaumont?

He was about to prove just how dangerous it was to cross him.